


Soul Deep

by cptcaroldanvers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/F, Full of Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Natalia Romanova - Freeform, Please Don’t Hate Me, alternate universe: hanahaki disease, im probably gonna write an alternate ending because i can’t leave my babies like this, pre-avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 05:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19311910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptcaroldanvers/pseuds/cptcaroldanvers
Summary: Natalia Romanova has never in her life expected to cough up flower petals.She especially did not expect it to happen while she was aiming down the sights of a sniper rifle at her next mark.





	Soul Deep

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! my name is mae and i wrote this absolute angst-ridden shitstorm. a bit of background info:  
> hanahaki disease is a fictional disease used in soulmate au’s. basically, it’s a disease slowly begins to kill someone whenever they first lay eyes on their soulmate by coughing up “petals.” the only cure is for them to fall in love with each other or have the cells that carry the disease surgically removed (but they won’t be able to love their soulmate). ANGST

Natalia Romanova has never in her life expected to cough up flower petals. 

 

She especially did not expect it to happen while she was aiming down the sights of a sniper rifle at her next mark. 

 

Truth be told, she had not been expecting it to happen at all. The Red Room had made sure to surgically remove the cells from her lungs during her graduation ceremony. Apparently, they didn’t get the job done because in her hand lay a tiny, nearly unnoticeable petal, surrounded by mucus and spit. Despite her years of unconditional training, Natalia couldn’t fight the feeling of panic that nearly overtook her being. 

 

_ Finish the mission.  _

 

Seconds ago, when she had lined her shot up on her mark, the Director of SHIELD, someone else had walked into her sights and she had felt her throat itch. Almost immediately, she was having a coughing fit and a tiny petal flew out of her mouth and onto the blood-stained carpet of an unlucky woman whose apartment had the best vantage point to complete her mission. 

 

Natalia’s eyes had widened, her body seizing up for a split second before she picked up the petal in near denial. 

 

_ Not possible. This cannot be possible.  _

 

Natalia pushes the thoughts to the back of her mind before she reaches for the rifle once more, shaking fingers sliding against cool metal before settling into position with the stock pressed into her shoulder once again. She peers through the sight of the rifle once more, but unfortunately, her brief moment of opportunity had already passed. She’s failed. 

 

Natalia growls in frustration, anger bubbling up beneath her skin. She got  _ distracted.  _ She yanks the rifle out of the opened window and begins disassembling it, calmly placing parts in her duffel bag even though she’s seething with anger at her incompetence. Of course this would happen to her. Of  _ fucking  _ course. 

 

After packing up, Natalia spares a glance back toward the building across the street. She catches sight of brown hair and pale skin and feels her throat itch once again. She reaches up to her throat and gently presses against it in an attempt to relieve the desire to cough as she steps over the dead body of the young blonde she had murdered for what ended up being no reason at all. 

 

——

 

Natalia had no idea what was happening to her. Her handler had informed her that she had been “cured” after her graduation ceremony, and that she had no reason to fear becoming compromised. Natalia made the mistake of trusting his word. 

 

Unfortunately, this meant that she had not been taught about said infection, about the disease that was running rampant through her body. 

 

After her failed mission, Natalia had returned to her issued safehouse and had immediately settled into a bath, where she was still soaking in now lukewarm water and bubbles. She ignores the pressure in her chest as she searches up her symptoms on her phone. 

 

_ Headache, fever, intense pressure in torso, coughing petals.  _

 

She scrolls through pages and pages of information, her heart dropping at every new bit she learns. 

 

_ First occurrence happens when you lay eyes upon your soulmate. Grows worse with time. Only cure is returned love from your soulmate or surgical removal. Surgical removal prevents you from ever being able to love your soulmate. Can become fatal after roughly four months.  _

 

Natalia’s phone drops to the bathroom floor as another coughing fit runs through her, petals bigger than the first settling in the water. 

 

——

 

_ Three weeks later.  _

 

Natalia knows that she must complete the mission before she can return to the Red Room and let them fix her. That’s why she’s marching down the hallway of yet another apartment building, black duffel in hand. Her chest feels like it’s going to explode and her throat burns like acid, but that doesn’t stop her from taking down the man in the apartment she needs to set up in. 

 

She finds herself opening a window once more, checking wind speed and direction and angles before assembling her rifle and propping it against the windowsill. The Director should be arriving any minute now, according to her information. He had a meeting with some bigwigs that funded SHIELD and if Natalia ever wanted to go back and get this shit in her lungs removed, she’d have to kill him. 

 

Natalia doesn’t know how long she’s waiting in the apartment before a black SUV pulls up to the curb across the street. She sways gently as she sits up further, pulling her rifle against her shoulder with the assistance of muscle memory. Natalia’s breathing grows increasingly ragged as she looks through the sights, moss green eyes watching as her mark steps out of the driver's seat. However, her attention is caught by the same brown hair and pale skin she had seen the first time, and she can damn near feel her lungs give out as she coughs. 

 

This time, though, she sucks in a strong breath, lines up the shot, and fires. She watches him fall to the sidewalk as screams and shouts full of panic fill the street. She doesn’t check twice to make sure he’s dead before she’s out the door and on her way to the airport. 

 

Natalia doesn’t notice the woman with brown hair and pale skin immediately lock onto her through the window before she slips out of the apartment. 

 

——

 

_ Two weeks later.  _

 

By the time Natalia returns to Russia, she feels as if her entire body is on fire. Her head swims and her vision blurs every time she coughs. Now, after about a month and a half after her first cough, the petals are accompanied with not only mucus and spit, but also blood. 

 

She often has to refrain from physically scratching her throat in an attempt to make the everlasting itch leave. After the third week, the itch came and it never left. Natalia thinks she’s going absolutely mad with the need to scratch it. 

 

She shows up at the Red Room, skin paler than the snow that covers the ground. Even in the middle of a Russian winter, the redhead has sweat running down her forehead. 

 

<< _ Widow, report, _ >> her handler orders, ignoring the way the Red Room’s most valuable asset can barely seem to focus on anything in front of her. Natalia reports the mission, leaving out her coughing fits and realizations before she even knows what she’s doing or why she’s doing it. 

 

She should  _ want  _ to get rid of this nonsense; this death sentence. 

 

_ Surgical removal prevents you from ever being able to love your soulmate.  _

 

Natalia swallows. 

 

_ Don’t be foolish. They would be absolutely stupid to love a monster. Tell him, get the surgery, remove the infection. Remove the infection. Remove the hope. Remove.  _

 

Natalia doesn’t say a thing about the petals. 

 

——

 

_ Two months later, Budapest.  _

 

Natalia is  _ tired.  _ She’s so fucking tired of running from Hydra and her demons. She’s tired of feeling like shit and coughing up petals. 

 

She’s  _ exhausted. _ She wants nothing more but for this suffering to just stop.

 

It wouldn’t be the first time in the last month that Natalia considered ending things herself. Hell, she only had roughly a month and a half left before this goddamn disease ended things for her. 

 

But dammit, she was  _ tired.  _

 

So she grew sloppy. Natalia knew that she had countless enemies across the globe that would quite literally kill to see her suffer the same, if not more, than they had. So she leaves hints that she normally wouldn’t. She wanted to be found so she wouldn’t have to end things herself, because she’s a  _ coward.  _

 

Natalia leaves more and more hints behind. She leaves her weapons, she carves her insignia into her victims, she cuts herself and leaves her blood, her DNA, behind. 

 

It doesn’t take long for her to be found. 

 

Natalia had only been in Budapest for four days, and now, on the fifth day, she’s being held against her will with an arrow pressed against her throat. She looks at the man standing over her with no fear in her eyes, just desperation.  _ Do it _ , she thinks.  _ End this for me.  _

 

The disease had already taken homage in her body. Sometimes she struggles to even stand. She’s deathly pale and constantly feels like she is underwater. Her breaths are ragged and wet. Natalia knows that she’s close to death. She can feel the cold embrace of it slowly begin to wrap around her every day she wakes up and sees petals on the hardwood floor of her safe house, patches of blood splattered here and there. 

 

Natalia leans forward, forcing the arrow against her throat even more until she feels the edge prick her skin and the familiar sensation of warm blood trickling down her pale throat. The man, Hawkeye, looks at her with a bit of surprise before drawing the bow and arrow away from her and pulling her up to her feet. 

 

“You’re not getting off that easy, Widow,” he says. Natalia knows just how correct he is, but oh, she’s close to begging whatever god there is that he isn’t. 

 

——

 

Hawkeye brings her to SHIELD not only hours after he captures her, and she’s immediately met with guns stuck in her face and his firm grip against her forearm. The handcuffs binding her wrists together are familiar to her, and she could easily slip out of them in seconds. She doesn’t, though. Despite how badly she wants to go, Natalia doesn’t want to be lit up by the dozen guns trained on her. 

 

Natalia doesn’t keep her gaze on her feet like she wants to. Instead, she looks directly in front of her and sees the Director of SHIELD, the man she had shot months ago. Beside him is the pale-skinned, brown-haired woman, and Natalia feels the burning sensation in her throat flare up. 

 

While she’s in the middle of an intense coughing fit, she still manages to notice the way the woman’s face contorts into an expression of panic and her hand lifts to her own throat before she, too, coughs. 

 

The Director looks over to his second, a brief flash of concern flashing over his face before realization smacks him upside his head. He knows before the woman does, and Natalia can tell by the way his one eye lands on her with a stare full of something she can’t determine that he knows exactly what she does.

 

The Assistant Director of SHIELD is the Black Widow’s soulmate. 

 

The Director and his second both straighten after she manages to compose herself. Natalia can’t keep her eyes off of the woman that is so close to her she can see the layers of different shades of blue in her eyes. 

 

“Widow, welcome to SHIELD.” 

 

——

 

Natalia is immediately sent to start her deprogramming the second she agrees to join SHIELD. Nick Fury, the Director, notices the way her moss green eyes never leave Maria, his second. 

 

Fury sends Maria to watch over her during the first stage of her deprogramming. Natalia knows what he’s playing at, though she doesn’t complain. 

 

Natalia knows that he needs her alive. She has the potential to be SHIELD’s greatest asset, and she can’t accomplish that if the disease kills her. Natalia knows that Fury knows Maria is her soulmate. She knows that’s why he sends Maria, the goddamn Assistant Director, to do a job that a baby agent could do. 

 

Maria is there every step of the way during the first week. Every time Natalia returns to her heavily guarded quarters, Maria is there to help break her out of her haze, to help her get out of her head and come back to reality. Natalia doesn’t miss the way Maria’s skin grows paler every day, nor does she miss the way Maria tries to hide the petals every time she coughs them up. 

 

Natalia chuckles darkly when Maria coughs, and the Russian watches as beautiful blue eyes stare into hers with a questioning look. 

 

Natalia looks away and stares blankly at the wall behind Maria. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

Natalia clenches her jaw and her fingers dig into the mattress underneath her. She chuckles once again. 

 

“I’m going to die. This disease is going to kill me and all of this will have been for nothing.” 

 

Natalia watches the Assistant Director out of the corner of her eye. She catches the way Maria flinches, even if it seems to be just a twitch of her fingers. There’s a moment of hesitant silence that fills the room; an ever growing pregnant pause that confirms Natalia’s suspicions. She chuckles once again in a poor attempt to hide the swell of tears in her eyes. Maria softens. 

 

“Natalia—“

 

“Natasha,” she says. 

 

Maria hesitates, staring at her with a newfound expression before nodding. 

 

“Natasha,” Maria returns, almost as if she’s testing the way the name feels on her tongue. 

 

Natasha’s grip on the mattress tightens ever so slightly. She decides that she loves the way Maria says her name. 

 

_ Don’t do that. _

 

“Natasha, you’re not going to die.”

 

Natasha scoffs. How could Maria say something like that? The only way for her to  _ not  _ die is for them to fall in love or get the infection surgically removed and subject themselves to a loveless lifetime. Natasha can’t see Maria choosing that to save a woman she barely knows. 

 

She also can’t see Maria turning her back on the woman that the universe threw at her, despite how crazy and stupid the entire situation is. 

 

Natasha coughs, blood splattering against the back of her hand. Her vision swims and it gets harder to hear Maria as she talks. 

 

“You’re not going to die, Natasha. I won’t allow it.” 

 

Maria leans forward and her hand comes up to rest against Natasha’s clammy cheek. Her thumb drags across a cheekbone dusted with freckles as she wipes away the blood from Natasha’s lips with her other hand. 

 

Their bond, although strained, is doing its best to pull them together. Natasha can’t help the feeling of warmth that sparks in her chest. 

 

That night, they sleep wrapped around each other. 

 

——

 

The next couple of weeks wreak havoc on both of them. Maria’s infection grows worse and Fury refuses to let her work herself into the ground. He manages to set a timer for her SHIELD account that kicks her out after a few hours. He does the same to Natasha’s, and Maria figures that out not only two hours after she logs into the redhead’s account. Of course Fury had expected her to try to log in through Natasha’s account. 

 

The two of them stay wrapped around each other, Maria tending to a feverish and near delusional Natasha while dealing with her own growing illness. She watches sadly while Natasha throws up so much that all she does is heave, and all Maria can do is hold her hair and rub her hand up and down her back in the most comforting way she can manage while whispering gentle words to her. 

 

Natasha wonders how they’ve grown as close as they have in the past couple of weeks, and she shivers at the realization that it was all for nothing. She’s going to die. What was the purpose of growing close to Maria? Hell, what was the purpose of even coming to SHIELD?

 

As if Maria can read her thoughts, she pulls Natasha away from the toilet and into her lap on the bathroom floor. Maria’s arms wrap around her and Natasha feels  _ safe.  _ It’s a feeling that she had never known and Natasha doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse to find out this close to her deathbed in the arms of what the universe claims to be her beloved. 

 

Natasha inhales sharply, her breath ragged. When she exhales, she doesn’t expect it to come out as a struggled sob. Maria tightens her hold. 

 

“Masha, I’m  _ scared _ .” 

 

Natasha had been trained to focus on the mission, to cut off all emotional ties and anything or anyone that would get in the way of success. She was trained to not feel fear and to stare death in the face without a worry in the world. 

 

Now, though, as Natasha  _ truly  _ looks death in the eye, she realizes that she is terrified. 

 

Natasha sobs when Maria pulls her impossibly closer. She hides her face in the crook of Maria’s neck and tries to get her breathing under control, but that only makes it worse. 

 

“I’m  _ so scared.  _ I don’t want to die, Masha. I don’t. I swear I don’t. I don’t want to die.”

 

Natasha feels wet drops fall against her shoulder and she knows Maria is crying, too. Maria knows that Natasha is going to die, and it breaks Natasha’s heart. 

 

_ Darling, you deserve so much more _ .  _ I’m so sorry.  _

 

“You’re not going to die, Natasha.”

 

Maria has said that so many times in the last few weeks that it doesn’t even mean anything to Natasha anymore. It’s become more of a mantra of denial than the promise it had been. 

 

“You’re not going to die, sweetheart. You’re  _ not. _ ”

 

Natasha knows that she’s going to. She feels closer to death now than she had felt when she had gotten shot three times on a mission gone wrong a few years back. She feels the way death holds her and whispers lullabies in her ear. She’s so close to dying and she’s absolutely  _ terrified.  _

 

“ _ Please,  _ Masha.” She hiccups. “I don’t— I— I’m  _ scared.”  _

 

All Maria can do is hold her until she feels wet eyelashes flutter against her neck before they close, and Natasha’s breathing evens out into a slow rhythm. Maria sits there for a few minutes, still rubbing her hand up and down Natasha’s back and still whispering soft, comforting words to the woman in her arms. She knows that they’ve run out of time. That it had taken Natasha too long to find her. 

 

It’s Maria’s turn to cry.

 

——

 

A few days later finds the duo settled on Natasha’s bed, wrapped around each other. Natasha has barely spoken all day and Maria can feel deep within herself that something is wrong. That everything is wrong. 

 

Today cannot be  _ the  _ day. Absolutely not. 

 

She promised Natasha that she wouldn’t die and goddammit, she meant it. Maria Hill does  _ not  _ break promises. 

 

“Natasha,” she whispers into red hair, almost like a prayer. 

 

She feels lips against her collarbone and can’t help the pleased shiver that runs down her spine. 

 

“Natasha, sweetheart, wake up.” 

 

Natasha slowly shuffles, groaning in pain at the movement. She’s stiff and her joints ache, pleading with her to move a bit more gently. Maria brushes red stray hairs out of Natasha’s face, tucking the strands behind her ear before leaning forward and planting a soft, long kiss on her damp forehead before allowing her own to drop down to Natasha’s. 

 

With their foreheads pressed together and noses occasionally bumping, Natasha sighs happily. Slim, strong fingers glide through her hair and untangle tiny knots and Natasha buries herself further into Maria. 

 

_ Maria, Maria, Maria. Her Maria. Hers.  _

 

Natasha grimaces at the thought. She knows today is the end of the line. She can feel it. There are no more petals to cough up. Her time is up. It’s too late. 

 

_ You deserve so much better, Masha. I’m so sorry I couldn’t give you what you deserve.  _

 

“Natasha…”

 

Natasha shakes her head, and she feels the fingers in her hair still. She hums in annoyance before bumping her nose against Maria’s. Her silent order is obeyed as fingers start scratching her scalp again. 

 

“I’m sorry, Masha. You deserve more than me.”

 

Her words are whispered against pale pink lips that had been stained red with the blood Maria had coughed up last night. For some reason, Maria’s infection was spreading faster than Natasha’s had. The intensity of Maria’s illness had seemingly tripled overnight and she wasn’t that far from Natasha’s state. 

 

The feeling of Maria’s lips ghosting over hers is enough to make her eyes flutter open. She’s met with startling blue eyes filled with affection and regret. 

 

“No, sweetheart. You are anything and everything I have ever dreamed of. You are  _ everything  _ to me.” 

 

Natasha bumps their noses together once more before dipping her head toward Maria’s neck. Her breaths are more like wheezes now, and she can barely get enough oxygen to function properly. She’s shaking. Maria knows that this is it. 

 

“Natasha, sweetheart, look at me.”

 

Natasha does. 

 

The hand in her hair stills and drops down to cup her cheek. Blue eyes stare into bloodshot green ones, and her thumb glides across constellations of freckles that dust Natasha’s face. Natasha lets out a tiny breath, and the sound of pain that leaves her lips during her last moment is enough motivation for Maria to lean in and whisper the three words that could have let them have it all. 

 

“I love you.” Moss green eyes widen for the briefest of seconds before Maria’s lips cover hers.

 

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

 

Maria feels the tears stream down her cheeks and she pulls Natasha closer to her, one hand wrapped around her waist and the other tangled in her hair. She can feel every ragged breath coming from Natasha, but she holds herself together. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.” 

 

She feels Natasha’s stuttering breath against her ear as she speaks.

 

“I love you back.” 

 

And then she’s gone. 

 

Maria sobs. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
